A Wayward Journey
by Yomi
Summary: Interested in the works and creation of a mad scientist, whom Illumi has been hired to assassinate, Machi is under Dancho’s orders to collaborate with the Zoldick. During the operation, chaos, hysteria and a dash of intimacy ensues.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **A Wayward Journey  
**Genre: **Action/Adventure/Fantasy  
**Rating: **T  
**Themes: **14 (Fantasy/Fairy Tale) & 24 (locked in/stuck in the middle of nowhere)  
**Chapter: **1 of 2  
**Author: **Yomi  
**Author's Notes: **Never tried my hand at these 30 themes before. I picked up the themes from 30(underscore)originals at the LJ.  
**Summary:** Interested in the works and creation of a mad scientist, whom Illumi has been hired to assassinate, Machi is under Dancho's orders to collaborate with the Zoldick. During the operation, chaos, hysteria and a dash of intimacy ensues.

* * *

They were hell bent in making sure he couldn't hear their discussions. Not that he was interested. They didn't need to give him reason, justification or even a moving speech. He only wanted the name, and how much they were willing to pay to eliminate the person attached to it. 

Assassination contracts were simple.

It was complicated for those who struggled with making the order. They weighed their conscience and grappled with fear of being caught for having issued the directive.

That was _their_ problem.

"If I charged by the hour, you'd have been billed for 10,000 jenis by now," he not-so-politely interrupted. Middle-aged men with exploding waste lines waving their sweaty paws around and bickering like panicked geese was _not_ why had had learned to endure torture as a child. They warily eyed him with degrees of uncertainty and mistrust under an overriding fear that attacked their breaths with shudders.

He knew his vacuous eyes and hollow look had that effect on people, not long after strangers, and then family, ceased to allow their gaze to linger on his undeniably handsome and refined features. That was why he was staring at them like an expressionless mannequin and causing havoc to reign in their frightened fantasies about the infamous Zoldick killing machine.

"Mr. Zoldick, this is a _delicate_ situation."

_For you, not me,_ his unwavering stare communicated, and one of them clutched an area on his chest directly above where the heart should have been beating.

The leader persisted in giving an explanation which he thought was entirely asinine in its irrelevance. "Should Dr. Murilied complete his research, its benefit to humanity is incalculable, but at the same time, it could plunge us into war and wipe two nations off the map. The fate of a country should not be left in the hands of a mad man. We must have control of it."

_Or no one else will_, he placidly completed the unspoken clause in his mind. Politicians were hypocrisy in its pure and undiluted form, never failing to repulse those exposed to the sickly aura for an extended period of time. He felt that he was reaching the limits of this 'extended' period of time because his frustrated sighs were now becoming audible and on its own accord, slender fingertips drummed against the table top.

"Mr. Zoldick, do you have absolutely any idea what Dr. Murilied's invention is capable of doing? If we destroy his research, we eliminate the threat of war, as well as one of the rarest jewels humans have not seen since fire."

He abruptly stood up, and a number of them clumsily reached for their guns hidden inside their blazers, although they froze into statues after a dozen pins were embedded into the rotting wood of the table in warning. "Then call me when you've made your decision."

After those curt words, he vacated the room under the heavy blanket of ominous silence.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

He supposed he could have lobbied harder to get the contract. Who said no to good, hard cash waiting to be adopted if only you'd sink one of your lethal musle-altering pins into the vulnerable body of an anemic scientist who hadn't seen the sun in the last five years?

Rolling his eyes at the wasted opportunity, he sought to escape the bite of the chilly evening wind and veered into the first respectable restaurant where succulent aromas of steak wafted onto the streets each time its front doors were swung open by a patron. The interior was dim and the singer of a live jazz band crooned away in an insolated corner, out of everyone's way.

He was thankful for the warm, cushioned seat, and once he shed his jacket, he ordered a long black and immediately picked up the glossy laminated menu and scanned its offerings.

"_Illu!"_

A shiver ran up and down his spine several times, rendering him motionless for a good two seconds. There was only one person in the world who purred that truncated form of his decent name in such disturbing and lecherous tones. Gritting his teeth, he made himself draw in a deep breath before turning in the direction where the voice had come from.

He had only ever seen him with white paint smeared all over his face and a coloured star and tear beneath his eyes, so that was the only explanation he could give for not noticing him when he stepped in looking like the average human being. And calmly seated opposite the deranged lunatic was a petite female figure whose piercing golden glare probed around his immaculate façade.

A hand that normally toyed with a deck of cards invited him to approach, and a smug, all confident grin dominated Hisoka's face. One pencil thin eyebrows sprang up, as if unleashed from its restraints, and he returned to study the menu, scorning the invitation.

"Don't be so cold-hearted, _Illu_," the magician playfully complained. As footsteps, two sets of them, headed determinedly towards him, an ache began to build up on the sides of his temples. "He's not normally like this, Machi. I think he's jealous of seeing you with me."

"Don't give yourself so much credit, clown." the blue-haired girl, Machi, coldly snapped back. "_This_ is your informant?"

He mentally rolled his eyes. He was nobody's informant. Or if he was, he expected to be paid upfront in full and in advance, then he'd send Karuto off to do his merry work and give him a 30 cut of the pay cheque.

They seated themselves on his table without asking and looked at him as if answers, which he didn't have, would miraculously tumble out free of charge. He really should ask them why they felt like interposing on him during dinner time. Didn't they know he'd had a bad day and had let a twelve-figure sum walk right past without even attempting to seduce it?

Hisoka wouldn't care. Hisoka only cared for himself. That was all they had in common.

"Ah, patience dear Machi. Illumi denies it, but you pretty much have to coax him into co-operating. _Illu_ - "

There it was again, that despised leer, a slander and mockery of his decent name, delivered as if it were a term of affection or a private joke that they did _not_ share.

" – Machi, beside me here, is interested in some information you may have."

"And it is the only reason why I agreed to – "

" – come out on a date – " smiled Hisoka.

" _attend this restaurant in the company of Hisoka_," Machi defensively corrected and finished with another glare colder than the elements outside the restaurant.

It was like listening to his siblings bicker at the dinner table over the last drumstick or chicken wing, or the politicians earlier, arguing amongst themselves until their faces were flushed an ugly red. The urge to rip out their jugulars was almost becoming irresistible and in response to the thought, blood rushed to his fingertips, awaiting for the order to transform normal delicate appendages into merciless tools of murder. For assuming that he would even help out just because they were acquainted, Hisoka deserved nothing less than to be beaten to death with the sugar spoon.

"What information could I _possibly_ have that the Ryodan couldn't obtain for themselves?" If he could quickly kill their enthusiasm for interrogating him, he would be able to enjoy dinner and tuck himself into a nice, warm cocoon of a doona before midnight. The headache wasn't doing any favours for his temper either.

"Murilied," Machi instantly got to the point and superbly ignored all of Hisoka's self-congratulatory purrs. "Dancho and Shal have heard rumors that the mad doctor has made some quite spectacular discoveries that Dancho has taken a personal interest in. We want to know where this good doctor is, and what, if any, his defences are like around his guarded compound. You only want the man. We want his research."

He waved a dismissive hand and irritably raked the other through his long mass of ebony hair, too absorbed by his irritation to notice Hisoka's restrained but longing stare, envying the hand that was freely allowed to touch the mane of black silk. "I know nothing. My clients haven't made up their mind as to whether they want me to exterminate with extreme prejudice or not. You wouldn't believe what my brother charges these days for information. I'm not going to ask Millu to dig until I have a 50 deposit in hand."

The Ryodan member was clearly disappointed. She bit her bottom lip in thought and cast him a doubtful look, trying to ascertain whether he was telling the truth. Did she think he was hoarding information because he wanted to claim the miraculous research for himself after he killed the doctor?

He didn't know what gave his thinking away, but Machi somehow sensed his curiosity. Hisoka had commented sometime in the past that the woman had a sixth sense. Illumi was more of a seeing-is-believing person, but he would reconsider the merits of this attitude another day when he wasn't feeling so cranky.

"Some say Dr. Murilied has found the key to immortality; others say he has in his hands a devastating weapon of mass murder. In any event, Dancho wants to have a good look at it and the doctor has done surprisingly well hiding himself from the eyes of the rest of the world."

Nodding in sarcastic keenness, the effects of which drew dark shadows across Machi's face, he said in artificial brightness, "Well, happy treasure hunting to you. Just don't expect me to be involved. Money appeals to me more."

That said, his mobile phone rang and he glanced at the identity of the incoming caller. Luck smiled upon him and graced him with a second chance to seduce that twelve-figure.

"I care nothing for the research," he declared as he pushed his chair out and stood up, shrugging into his jacket. "Two hundred million jenis is my price if you want to tag along. Take it or leave it. I leave the Hotel Damakrilos tomorrow afternoon and I'm not doing any more talking unless I see the credit."

The last he saw of Machi was the young woman pinching the bridge of her nose in resignation as Hisoka wriggled deeper into the chair, making himself comfortable, and ordered the set dinner for couples, the smile of victory never wavering.

Apart from their selfishness, they had nothing else in common.

**o-o-o-o-o-o-o**

The satisfaction of seeing his account bloat by a sizeable sum made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. His lax facial muscles, accounting for his usual lack of outward expression, tingled, warming his cheeks and almost wheedled a genuine smile from his lips. Milluki took a twenty five percent cut for the intelligence report, and he got to pocket the rest. There was no easier way than this to earn money.

They stood out in the open streets, numbly watching traffic past as the sun inched to its zenith, and the people deliberately side-stepped the mismatched pair, giving them wide berth. Exhaust from cars made it increasingly difficult to breathe and the din of midday traffic began to grate on their eardrums.

After half an hour, Machi finally broke the silence.

"So, Illumi." He sensed her hesitation in pronouncing his name, distressed or uncomfortable about the illusion of familiarity created by the use of his first name, but reluctant to resort to overt formalism with use of his surname. "What's your plan?"

He had many. Some that parents didn't even know about. "Be specific."

Her eyebrows lowered a fraction and her voice gained an edge. "How do you intend to carry out your job this time?"

Oh, that. Boring. "According to my brother, Dr. Murilied no longer exists on the face of the earth."

"_What?"_

Illumi raised his head and squinted as he directly stared into the sun, lost for a moment in the shifting swirls and colours of the ultra violet rays burning into his retina. "It's about time. Follow."

The shabby warehouse he took the woman to squatted opposite the docks and looked as if it was hastily patched up with splintered planks of wood after a two tonne truck tore a highway right through it in the middle of the night. With three seagulls aimlessly drifting on the wind currents above, there was nothing overtly suspicious about the dilapidated structure, which was exactly the reason why both man and woman proceeded ahead with gyo flaring in their eyes, and for Illumi, his en stretched to a hundred meter radius, drawing a bewildered expression from Machi that was rapidly concealed beneath another mask of calm and a change of topic.

"I thought Dr. Murilied's defences would be better than this," Machi muttered under her breath in disgust, secretly fuming for the amount of money the Ryodan paid the professional assassin to lead them to such a run-down building. As far as her eyes could see, it was an empty, abandoned warehouse with paint peeling off four bare walls and dust gathering on the ground. No one had been here for weeks.

Illumi gave her a thoughtful look and the admonishment was in the timbre of his voice. "I already told you he's not on the face of the earth, so why then would he need physical security measures?"

Fists clenched by her side. "That's the part you haven't explained," she bit out.

The slender assassin moved away from her side, his light footfalls leaving no mark on the ground and never once did he disturb a single molecule of dirt. Wide-eyed and astonished, Machi found herself captivated and devoting her entire attention to his visage. His voice flooded into her senses, embracing her whole and every word was branded into her mind.

"In my entire career, I have come across…two…people who had the ability to generate a dimension which they can freely enter and exit – "

_Like Shizuku's deme-chan!_

" – and aware that his research was in its final stages, the doctor left 'earth' all together, away from the hand-rubbing of ambitious men. It is what any logical person would have done."

"So the doctor is a nen-user?"

A brusque nod. "Or he hired someone to make him a dimension to hide in. One assumes that a nen-user must be inside or near his dimension to maintain it, If we factor in the doctor's paranoia at this stage, he would like to work in total secrecy and will not tolerate company. So that means there should be a nen-user around."

"Negative," Machi immediately confirmed, although her eyes darted around the gloom, especially around the corners to which the shadows and darkness so desperately clung. "So Murilied's created his own dimension to work in. Great – how do we proceed?"

The assassin had crouched down onto the ground, and his long fine fingers acted as a feather duster, gently parting the dirt to locate some invisible clues only he could apparently see. "I doubt the doctor could exert his nen to create a dimension _and_ concentrate on finalizing his research at the same time. If he's not a nen user, and if there is no one in a hundred-meter radius upholding the dimension, what do you think that means?"

Aside from the ghostly light scraping of Illumi's hand on the ground, silence loudly resonated around Machi, tampering with her ability to think. For an instant, she resented the Zoldick's calm exterior and how the enigma did nothing to ruffle his proverbial feathers.

"You already have an answer." It was an accusation more than a statement, and Illumi admitted by lowering his head in another small, patient nod.

"The highest possibility which remains is that Dr. Murilied's research involves another dimension. Here, have a look."

Almost grudgingly, Machi willed her body to move and studied the patch of ground in front of Illumi's booted toe. She blinked, once, twice, then saw faint, hairline cracks. With a sweep of his hand, sending a cloud of dust into the air and a suppressed cough on Machi's behalf, more lines appeared in the ground and glittered like a gossamer web stretching on endlessly in all directions.

"Don't stare too hard." The warning in Illumi's voice was genuine and real, and his alarm was no illusion either. "Our minds are truly not vast enough to comprehend what the doctor has created. I think I'm starting to understand now…no, I can't understand, I can only appreciate, the enormity of his project."

She refused to be daunted, crossing her arms and gave a soft snort. "Don't be silly. The worst these lines can do is give me a headache, migraine even. Has our resident assassin lost his nerve?"

"Milluki said to find the locks on the portal as they will become weakest when the sun is directly aligned above the gateway," Illumi continued, giving no indication he heard Machi's insult, or if he did, was not affected by it. "This is the gateway, the lock. We activate this, and we'll find the doctor."

"Just hold on a minute." Machi reached into her white gi and retrieved her phone, nimble fingers already finished with the speed dial. "Hello, Shal? Yep, I've _kind of_ found the location – Warehouse 14 on Venor Port. The Zoldick and I are probably going to make contact with the doctor. Is there anything in particular that I should be on the lookout for? Mmmhmm….I've got the USB flash stick with me…no, I cannot bring the scientist back alive….all right, I'll call you when I can."

He remained crouched on the ground as Machi made the call, idle musings about her telephone conversation with 'Shal' provoking questions and conclusions he'd never considered before. When had he ever called any one before his assignments? Who would he call and what was the point of calling anyway? To ensure someone always knew his last known whereabouts in case he vanished without a trace? Then that meant the 'someone' would have to be a person who 'cared' about his movements and 'cared' more still whether he was going to return from a mission. Ever since he became an unnamed partner in the Zoldick family business, he stopped reporting, and no one cared enough to ask.

Fascinating, Illumi wryly thought as he watched Machi slip the cellphone back into the folds of her gi. Even class A felons still knew how to care for each other after all. How on earth did Karuto work alongside people from such a different world to theirs?

"Let's do it," Machi said, albeit too roughly. He suspected she was trying to hide the quaver of fear that shook her voice.

"Place your hands here and engage the gateway with your hatsu," Illumi instructed, his detached demeanor giving the young woman no notice of what to expect.

Blithely doing as she was told, Machi palmed the ground and let her nen be expelled from her hands. The moment her nen caressed the gateway, a million luminescent threads lashed out and assaulted her mind, trying to bend it into the shape of the gateway. It stretched beyond three dimensions, reaching backwards and forwards in time at dizzying speeds and threatened to tear her mind apart to make it keep up.

She emitted one short shriek as a blast of brilliant white light enveloped her whole consciousness whole. And then everything was still.

After what seemed like hours, she felt something tap against her cheek repeatedly, alternating on either side.

"Machi….Machi…" someone's voice was vaguely calling to her. The Zoldick's tranquil, alto tones full of a mother's worry. A tear slipped from her eye.

"Bastard," she croaked past a parched throat and sluggish tongue. "Why didn't you warn me?"

"No time to argue. The gateway's almost about to close. Can you sit up?"

"I can't even visualize the bloody gateway," she moaned, consenting to firm hands urging her into a sitting position. Surprisingly, her skin didn't immediately form gooseflesh when bare hands grasped onto her naked arms. For some reason, she found herself picturing how she'd instantly lash out with fists, feet and teeth had it been Hisoka who currently held her thus. Pushing the irrelevance to one side, she focused on the problem at hand. "How can I even pass through if I'm going to lose my sanity just trying to hold the door handle?"

Illumi's sigh tickled her bare neck. "I guess I could go on myself and leave you here. But you have paid, and a Zoldick never reneges on a deal after he's received commission." Another long sigh. "Very well. If it won't bother you too much, wrap your arms around me and, quite literally, cling on."

Her arms wound themselves around the man's incredibly slender waist and she cautiously rested her cheek against his back. She'd heard Karuto speak of his eldest brother before, depicting him as an untouchable god of death, graceful in his brutality, alluring in his merciless attacks and docile with his violence. The boy was right. His brother had evolved to the stage where the intent to kill was as natural as breathing or walking to him and so he passed off as a normal man with a demure countenance.

How frightening and comforting.

She was untouched by panic as reality once again warped around them, because the Zoldick's heart never once skipped a beat, and she felt safe enough to close her eyes.

When she opened them again, they stood on a grassy knoll and up above them, an unending inky black night sky twinkling the lights of a million stars.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **A Wayward Journey  
**Genre: **Action/Adventure/Fantasy  
**Rating: **T  
**Themes: **14 (Fantasy/Fairy Tale) & 24 (locked in/stuck in the middle of nowhere)  
**Chapter: **2 of 2  
**Author: **Yomi  
**Author's Notes: **Never tried my hand at these 30 themes before. I picked up the themes from 30originals at the LJ.  
**Summary:** Interested in the works and creation of a mad scientist, whom Illumi has been hired to assassinate, Machi is under Dancho's orders to collaborate with the Zoldick. During the operation, chaos, hysteria and a dash of intimacy ensues.

* * *

She was not used to this type of unconditional warmth from another human being's body. Even compared to a feather down doona and a cup of hot chocolate, it could not match this simple _bliss_. There was no bottom to this well of goodness, gently rising and falling. If she allowed herself to elope with her imagination, this might be what kindness, or compassion, even love, felt like.

Meteor Street was a hard and unforgiving place to grow up in. The only family she had was the other kids around her age who shared the same sad old plight that became routine and common such that they had no sympathy for each other. The only goal they strove towards, which was the only thing they ever acted in co-operation upon, was a promise to survive in a land where law and order was as fickle as a dandelion in strong gust of wind. Children were the most vulnerable prey, and they learned to stop being children very quickly. And as soon as they left their childhood behind, they had no more room for weakness, insecurity and dependence. Once you stopped being a child, there was no turning back and no chance to ever entertain, even for the most infinitesimal of moments, the idea that you could be helpless, that you could need someone to hold onto when the world is dim, and have someone who would stand by you until the end of time.

"Which direction do you think we should go?"

She broke out of the reverie, shook aside the fleeting comfort of safety and reprimanded her arms until they were back by her side. Her face was burning in humiliation. If any of the Ryodan members caught wind of _this_, she was never going to hear the end of it.

A quick sneak peek up at the Zoldick, and she discovered that he wasn't even bothered by her peculiar behaviour. In fact, he wasn't looking down at her; his large, feline eyes were only ever vigilantly surveying the grassy fields around them. Relief flooded through her veins and lifted the pressure that had clamped around her chest. Unlike Hisoka, curse his miserable existence, the assassin didn't appear to be the type to gloat about these sorts of close encounters to his friends.

That's right – assassins didn't have friends, so this little shameful secret of hers would be safe.

She cloaked her discomfort beneath a series of coughs, pretending to clear her throat. "Why ask me?"

"Because Hisoka said you have a reliable sixth sense."

She blinked. The Zoldick didn't come across to her as a stupid man and must have fully appreciated the magnitude and depth of Hisoka's _un_reliability, or the magician's habit of fudging the truth. The day she accepted Hisoka's words at face value was the day she married him at the altar and believed his "I do".

Instinctively, she raised her arm, careless of the direction and said, "That way," just to test the assassin's gullibility.

Illumi didn't question her decision before he turned away and began to head down the shallow slope of the hill, dusting his pants free of the yellow pollen from the sunflower that stubbornly clung to the fibres of cloth. She quashed the rising panic of being left alone in a dimension where even a blade of blue-black grass unnerved her and the rustle of the flower stalks, soft metallic clangs, made her jump.

"Illumi…" the name came, timid and unbidden. He paused mid stepped and finally acknowledged she was still there. A swirling current of wind caught his hair and lifted the heavy mass off his shoulders. Like a brocade of black satin, it merged and became lost in the backdrop of the inky black night.

There he stood, a slender grim reaper whose pale, near translucent skin glowed a wane ivory in the fey light, and she was rendered motionless by the enticing aura of magnificent confidence that reminded her so much of Dancho.

His hand was held out to her. She stared.

"Come," his soft voice called to her again, massaging away her resistance with laughable ease. Damn. Damn he was dangerous.

Damn, his hands were warm and dry as she held on.

"What you're feeling right now is not uncommon. Gravity in here is a little greater than usual. The fact I can see everything so clearly despite the night sky is also unsettling. But there's no need to be afraid. Let's go."

How did he do it? How did he pass through the gateway and plough on in a place where the air had a faintly pungent smell of rot and decay, and a persistent ringing in her ears was starting to sound lot the wails of the tormented dead?

The experience was almost surreal and time stopped to suspend her in this dazed state of mild terror. Little tiny pinpricks began to numb her bottom lip and she had to bite down with her teeth to quell the trembling.

"Wait…Illumi…" It was getting difficult to talk. A dry, parched throat and an uncooperative tongue attempted to thwart her will. Her eyes were still keen though, and everywhere around her, that little knoll was nowhere to be seen, and she knew they hadn't been moving long enough for that landmark to completely vanish from sight. "The portal is gone and we're stuck in the middle of nowhere." Those words were articulated more firmly as warmth began to gather.

The Zoldick's countenance was unforgivingly stern. "You're starting to sound hysterical, Machi. Yes, the gateway's disappeared, but we're going to find Dr. Murilied, are we not? So," Illumi eased his voice back into its former gentility, coaxing Machi out of her panic-stricken fright, "We're going to extract the secret to leaving this place before I kill him."

In that moment, Illumi sounded both very sensible and very thuggish. Machi welcomed the thug in him – it was what she would have done as well and she could relate to that type of thinking. Back on familiar ground, she breathed easier again and took her place by the assassin's side, no longer content to trail behind in his flickering shadow.

But she couldn't let go of his hand just yet. Her confidence still needed time to mend.

And the warmth was nice.

**O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O**

Illumi Zoldick must have a clock in his mind, she concluded after he announced that two hours had passed since they had arrived, and that clock held the time more accurately than atomic clocks installed in rockets. Her watch stopped ticking the moment her sandals trampled on grass, and her mobile phone spazzed out, short circuited and promptly blew up in a puff of grey smoke when she tried to dial out to report her safety.

"Hisoka's right after all." The Zoldick gave her hand a small squeeze and steered her attention towards the western horizon where something was coming towards them at high speeds. On the air was the steady hum of distant rolling thunder, malevolently approaching. They turned out to be the frenzied striking of horses' hooves, tearing up clods of earth in their wake, as a gold gilded chariot careered towards them. "Imagine if we had walked in any other direction and missed our guide."

"Trapped for all eternity," she mumbled, secretly astonished that randomly selecting a direction could net them such a gain. "But how do you know the guy driving the prehistoric car is a guide? If he doesn't hit the brakes soon, he's going to try and mow us down."

Despite herself, she shivered as the two horses drawing the chariot shrieked. They sent specks of white froth sailing into the air as they wildly shook their heads, and Machi stared into their wide, unblinking bloodshot eyes and arrived at one undeniable conclusion.

They were stark raving mad.

Inhuman hands must have wrestled with the reins. The chariot came to a skidding halt two inches before them and when the front hooves of the horses pawed the air and threatened to cave their heads in, a sharp yank subdued the beasts who had to be content snorting puff after puff of misty fog into the air.

Illumi stiffened beside her. The horses towering above her obscured her view, but she was sure the assassin had responded to the driver. Was it someone he knew?

Darn it, she mentally swore, reluctantly relinquishing her hold of Illumi's hand so she could move around to his other side and see what or who was making him sweat.

Nothing, no amount of preparation could prepare her for this. "_Hisoka? What the bloody hell are you doing here!"_

Her hells screech shook Illumi out of his daze, and he did something quite unexpected and chivalrous. He stepped in front of her and partly shielded her with his body.

"Who are you really?"" He was convinced the man he saw was an imposter. Although the hair was expertly gelled and upright, and the levels of lechery emanating from the grin made his skin crawl, this man could not be Hisoka.

A throaty laugh emerged from those fabricated lips. "Anyone I want to be, dear boy, but I usually take the form of a person you're acquainted and comfortable with."

"I'm _not_ comfortable with Hisoka!" the assassin and spider snapped simultaneously.

"All right, all right," the driver held up his open palms in a defensive and conciliatory gesture, conceding: "whoever this 'Hisoka' guy be, he isn't on top of your 'friends' list."

Illumi's eyes narrowed. "How do you know Hisoka's on our 'list' in the first place?"

The side door swung open and the Hisoka-doppelganger stepped back in invitation. Machi almost laughed out loud at the sheer audacity.

"No way, punk. I'm not getting into any wagon when some guy in some dimension can take images from my mind and mimic people I konw."

Hisoka's double threw a cheeky wink at Illumi and tsked, waving a finger in front of his face before tapping him once on the nose. The fact that Illumi had no time to dodge such a simple gesture disturbed her more than the implied affection in the action itself. Illumi's brows dipped a fraction of a centimeter, and his displeasure ruined the gentility in his aura that Machi had come to adore.

"You have a feisty girlfriend. Come on, Doctor Murilied knows about you intruders and has sent me, poor me, to pick you up. As if I'm not busy enough, as if I have the time to indulge in ungrateful people who mistrust me because of my appearance….oh, why do I even bother?"

Seeing a grown man, who looked exactly like the detestable magician, dab a tissue to his eyes and sniffle made Machi's jaw drop. Illumi held rigidly still, retaining all the dignity of a professional assassin, but though his expression hardly changed, his incredulity and disbelief was near suffocating. He eyes met hers, and something flickered inside – a self-doubt seeking her reassurance.

Oh, he was relying on her intuition once again.

Her cheeks started to heat. No time to be touched by his trust, the scolding went rebounding in her mind, threatening to distract her from seeking the opinion of her gut. The idiot-imposter had run out of bogus tears and was now throwing more suggestive winks and blew loud, slurpy kisses at an assassin who was calling to him every skill he had in his armoury to remain impassive lest he cave that mimick's skull in with his bare fists.

"Illumi, we've got no choice. We could be wandering here, lost, in this bizarre dimension for the rest of our lives. This…_thing_…claims to be acting under the orders of the doctor and will take us there. I'm prepared to accept that much of what he's saying."

Although her choice must have been painful for Illumi, who carefully watched for what the Hisoka-look-alike did with his hands, namely that they did not stray within an inch of his behind, Machi easily hopped on and reasserted her calm by seating herself without invitation and looked expectantly at the chauffeur to escort them to their destination.

Her actions caught the guide off-guard. He tilted his head and in an unmistakably Hisoka-esque style and quieted down, to the point where he resembled a dejected child just admonished by his mother, and shook the reins, urging the horses into a canter. Illumi's shoulders slumped a fraction and he nearly slouched in his chair.

After gently massaging the muscle on bridge of his nose, Illumi stared thoughtfully at the back of the driver and formulated a question, that, unknown to Machi, was the product of several chains of reasoning and hypotheticals.

"So, what are you exactly? A creation of Dr. Murilied?"

There was a rude snort and a furious shake of the reins. Hisoka's voice was tainted by outrage. "Creation? By pathetic human hands? No dear boy, I was created by no one and I will endure eternally as I watch you wither away."

Machi produced a miffed noise of her own, steeling herself the seat as the ride became increasingly bumpy and rickety through no fault of the even ground. "Then why are you at the beck and call of the Doctor, performing _demeaning_ tasks such as providing this escort service?"

From thin air, a barbed whip materialized in Hisoka's hand. For a moment, Machi thought the blows would be intended for her, but the driver mercilessly rained down slash after slash onto the bare hides of the horses. Although having been present to a number of Feitan's gruesome interrogation sessions, the petty cruelty inflicted on the innocent animals stirred Machi's cold rage and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the blood that steadily licked out from the ugly lacerations. The frenzied whipping sent droplets of blood flying into the air, and some spattered onto Illumi's clothing, eliciting the barest of grimaces.

"Are you familiar with this place?" Illumi asked, voice adjusted at perfect neutrality.

"Familiar?" Hisoka repeated at two octaves higher than Illumi. "Of course I'm damn 'familiar'. I _am_ this place."

Machi nudged Illumi with her elbows, a soft jab straight to his ribs, her perked eyebrows begging the question, _what are you doing?_ The assassin's eyes never left the back of Hisoka, but his hand guilelessly moved towards one of her hands which were pressed flat against her thighs, and patted it as one might try to placate a tiny creature. No inappropriate lingering – just two touches enough for her breath to hitch and face to warm.

"It would seem that the doctor has some leverage over you. I propose a deal."

In a puff of bitter black smoke, the whip vanished and the wheels of the chariot sailed smoothly over the ground.

"I like to prepare my contingencies. In the event that, even upon the pain of death, the doctor does not give up the secret to leaving this place, I would like to secure a passage back to my dimension."

Machi found herself holding her breath as she stared openly at the Zoldick. Indifferent calm, placid poise, implacable exterior oh so beautiful and warm yet so elusive to grasp. Her heart was wrenched with pain and tears threatened to well up in her eyes.

To gaze upon perfection and feel hopelessly inferior was normal, wasn't it?

Illumi easily continued, as if he already knew that his offer was irresistible. "In exchange for your assistance in leaving this dimension, we will exterminate the doctor and free you from his bonds. We both have an itch to scratch – let's co-operate."

A snide, sinister laugh slipped into their minds, hollow and filthy as the stench of a rotting corpse, leaving an unwashable stain on their souls. Machi glared harder at the driver's back and refused to submit to fear, and a small, near imperceptible nod of approval from Illumi exponentially strengthened her resolve.

She knew defiance so well, yet with the assassin, she had a feeling she would gladly throw herself into his overwhelming darkness without an iota's hesitation.

Damn, he was dangerous.

**O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O**

In the horizon, they appeared to be tiny glowing tawny dots that shuddered with each gust of air. There were millions upon millions of them, planted in the blue-black hills that rolled on endlessly as far as their eyes could see under the perpetual night sky.

Machi's breath was stolen away. "I've read about a fairy tale like this when I was a child."

Even the Zoldick shifted from his seat and leaned forward for a closer look. "The span of one human's life, represented by the candle and the flame. I never thought we were meant to take _'snuffing out someone's life'_ literally."

"The doctor didn't create this." Machi clung onto the railing and even sided up to Hisoka to study the landscape before her. "He just found the way in, didn't he? Then usurped your position as Grim Reaper. There's no weapon of mass murder to be found here or the panacea to all of humanity's ills. This is…"

Her mind was blank. No words could describe the wonder and terror inside her, making her stomach do flips. She sucked in one deep breath after another, but her heart refused to decrease its accelerated beating.

"This is a mockery of my work," Illumi said with atypical flatness, eyes narrowed in part distrust and part disapproval. He sat back down again in stony silence and was no longer swept away by the excitement and thrill of discovery.

"How is it a mockery, dear boy?" the grim reaper asked playfully, smirking at the irritated black-haired mortal. As the chariot became immersed in the sea of lit candles, he set the horses into a trot and loosened his grip on the reins.

"Assassination is not just plain murder. It requires skill, and the process of eliminating a target is an _art_. If people were to have access to this place…"

He probably didn't intend for it to be a joke, but she found it funny and laughed, a pure, silver sound in the unnatural quiet of the dimension. "You'd be out of business, and all that training of yours would be meaningless. It'd only take a thumb and a forefinger to extinguish a flame around here, and no number of money and bodyguards can make you any safer. It won't even cost ten jenis to end a life."

Illumi just looked at her, and she laughed some more.

"Hush! We're approaching the source of power that is sustaining this place. Doctor Murilied has not strayed an inch from there since he arrived. If he catches whiff of your hostile intentions, that's your problem and I won't be able to interfere."

Machi noticed no two candles were identical. The tall ones belonged to children, and the short ones with dim, flickering flames were of old men and women facing twilight. But every candle was unmarked save for the discoloured yellowish blemish that ran down in jagged streaks in the ivory grey wax. "Hold on a minute! How do I know which person corresponds to which candle?"

Hisoka's grin was smug. Wrapped up in his conceit, he sneered, "You don't. Only I can pair the candle to the human."

"Out of four billion?" Wonder crept into Illumi's voice.

"Yup."

"And how long does it take for you to locate the right candle?"

"That's a secret."

"And what if my candle, for example, is two hundred miles away from here? Will you have to physically travel to my candle to collect it?"

"That's a secret too."

Illumi gracefully rose to his feet and stood so close to the driver that his chest brushed up against Hisoka's back and his head was tilted back so his lips were a hair's breadth away from seductively caressing the reaper's ear. Machi gulped.

Was the Zoldick courting Death?

"So the doctor cannot kill me if he does not know which candle is mine. One in four billion – I like those chances. But if the doctor begins to pressure you, how long can you _credibly_ stall?"

Hisoka turned his face just slightly, enough to lean his body against the assassin's and allow those warm lips to brush against his cheekbone in a sordid imitation of a kiss.

_How long will it take you to eliminate the doctor, oh great artist?_

For the first time, Illumi smiled.

**O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O**

Murilied had an ordinary appearance. He defied the fancied stereotype scientist with unkempt white hair who donned a lab coat he had worn since his days as a science student. He was probably in his mid sixties, but he had kept his figure well since his back was stiff and straight, his face was full and healthy with colour and when he greeted them with a glacial cold smile, he displayed two rows of perfect white teeth.

Behind him was a spectacular pillar of white light that reached to the heavens and pierced the darkness. Iridescent lines unceasingly spiralled up and down, trailing off to dimensions their eyes couldn't possibly hope to follow. According to the Hisoka-imposter, this column of light was the centre of the dimension and the source of all power upholding the place. And at the base surrounding the pillar, where the light erupted up from the ground, were alien contraptions, wrought with pulsing wires and protruding with a million stick-like tentacles. Whatever the abominable machine was, the Grim Reaper feared what it could do.

Just looking at it made Machi's skin crawl.

Murilied gave a small, florid bow. "Welcome to my domain. I knew word of my discovery would soon spread. What kind of opportunistic scum are you?"

They were not interested in the doctor's vindictively affable demeanor. Instead, their attention attacked things such as whether the doctor knew nen, had set up any other defensive perimeter or had on his persons any other weapon or offensive utility.

One cough from Machi signalled that the doctor was just an ordinary human being with an exceptionally twisted mind.

One disdainful sniff from Hisoka indicated that the doctor hadn't laid out any booby traps.

Illumi's folded arms meant that the doctor was most likely unarmed.

There was only one outstanding question: was the doctor so assured in his safety that he had abandoned all common sense?

Boldly, Illumi advanced, displaying the same apathy to danger as the doctor had and stopped within two meters of the man who had unlocked the keys to the land of life and death. "I have been given instructions to terminate your research."

"Have you any idea how close I am to becoming God, young man? If I can decrypt the gateway to this place, I can devise a way to find which flame belongs to which person. Safe, here, where no one may follow me, _I_ will determine who lives and dies!"

A look of pain flashed through Hisoka's face as the doctor stuck his hand into the column of light, disrupting the flow of the multi-coloured filaments. "These," announced the doctor, a wide, crazed grin on his face, "these strands of rainbow-coloured threads are in fact in fact little crystals, the size of a grain of sand, strung together, and each crystal is like a little databank giving me the names and location of each person here. Just a few more adjustments, and I will be able to instantaneously locate the candle of whoever I want!"

Madder than the mad a hatter, Machi bleakly thought to herself, and took up her position, releasing her nen threads under the cover of 'in'.

Illumi, meanwhile, continued to provide the necessary distraction. "Aren't you concerned that if we could enter, others can also invade your domain?"

Murilied waved a hand in a negligent, dismissive gesture, and leaned casually back against the whirring machine, his fingers idly caressing the cold, metallic surface. "Most people's brains would dribble out of their ears before they even stepped foot in here. You on the other hand…to be able to arrive here, sane, is quite a feat which I do not expect others to be able to emulate. Like I said, it won't matter if people can invade this dimension. Only I can operate this machine, and soon, I will transcend!"

The signal Machi had been waiting for was Illumi's exaggerated sigh. The moment the breath of air escaped his lungs, she curled her fingers into a tight fist and yanked at the invisible nen-wire.

Murilied gasped as his entire body stiffened and he was suddenly robbed of control. The wire cut past his suit and broke his skin the harder he struggled, and as he knelt on the ground, bleeding from a dozen wounds, wide-eyed, he frantically looked back and forth between Illumi and Machi.

"Reaper! Help me!"

Hisoka buffed his nails on the front of his shirt, magnificently ignoring the order. But Murilied was determined to have the last laugh. "You'll betray me, Reaper? But do you think with me gone, you can just rip apart this machine and you'll be free?" A harsh, guttural sound, presumably a laugh, rumbled in the base of the doctor's throat. "If you do not properly deactivate the machine, it will self destruct and bring this entire dimension along with it!"

That got the shape-shifter's attention and he tensed, one foot lifted and about to turn towards Machi, but Illumi held him back and whispered more words into the Reaper's ear. The assassin knelt down on one knee and held the sweat-drenched face of Murilied between his pale, fine hands, staring deep into those hysterical eyes. "I am only ordered to stop your research. Turn the machine off, and I'll let you live."

"This place is mine! I found it! And I will die rather than give it up!" Murilied spat into the assassin's face. "You've got a killer's inhumanity in your eyes. Go on, kill me, and you will never leave here alive!"

Machi's pulled harder, and the wires worried its way deeper into his skin, causing the doctor to howl in pain. He crumpled onto his side, one boneless heap sweating and shivering, and Illumi repeated his proposition.

"Never…" the doctor whispered, defiant to his last breath. He was on the verge of unconsciousness.

"Don't apply anymore pressure, Machi. There are other ways to make him talk."

"Damnit! He's almost blacked out, and the only person I know who could interrogate a man when he's out cold is Feitan, and I don't see that scrawny little bastard here. Do you?"

She guessed she shouldn't have said that – it did nothing constructive for their situation, and Illumi studied her for some time, perhaps a little amused. If he had been Hisoka, she would have been thankful to settle for an arrogant reproach and even a short rant on the magician's invincibility, but the assassin preserved the calm and acknowledged the unspoken apology, once again passing no judgment on her outbursts. Two slender silver needles six inches long materialized in Illumi's hands and he motioned for Hisoka to pull the doctor into an upright position.

"The brain is one massive database as well, my good doctor." That said, Illumi cut the skin, peeled the bloody folds aside as if he were dealing with an overripetomato, andunveiled the skull, wet and glistening with blood. Whilst a surgeon had an electric powered saw to pry open the cranium, Illumi performed the task with his bare hands. With one accurate blow, the top half of the skull cleanly split and was gently removed to reveal the goey soft pink of brain beneath. Not long after, the doctor's exposed brain became a pin cushion for a dozen silver needles, and Illumi twisted the needles, adjusting the depth of penetration as delicately as a radio operator trying to find his frequency channel.

"Now tell me, doctor, how do you deactivate your machine?"

Murilied slowly blinked, pupils widely dilated. His mouth fell open and drool leaked from the corners, falling onto his blood-soaked shirt. Illumi frowned and gave one of the needles a small tap, and the mouth snapped shut again.

"Panel Eight…code….Blue, Seven…Six…Two…Two."

"And how do you override the self-destruct mechanism?" Illumi asked, playing with a few more needles.

The doctor's body spasmed like a man being electrocuted by a million volts. Machi was about to tighten her nen-threads again, but the assassin snapped his fingers and a round headed pin appeared in his fingers, which was then plunged it down the man's throat. The doctor immediately went limp. "Panel…code…correct….will not….explode. Manual self…destruct override…panel twelve…green, four…nine…seven…three…four."

Illumi gave the Grim Reaper the nod to punch in the first set of numbers into the system. Everyone tensed during the moments when the sound of the machine's whirrs were gradually dying down, but even when it was completely still and quiet, none of them dared to move.

Machi ventured to be the first to break the silence. Gulping down her apprehension, she muttered, "Is…it over?"

Hisoka the Reaper struck the heel of his shoe into the ground a few times, then a broad smile slowly spread across the good lower half of his face and his eyes twinkled in exultation. His howl of joy made the tiny hairs on the back of both Illumi and Machi's neck stand on end, and all of a sudden, they wondered whether the creature would keep its promise.

Afterall, absolute power over life and death must corrupt absolutely.

Murilied's head was neatly severed from the body, Illumi's hand having sliced clean through the neck with a precision and force that Nobunaga's sword could only dream of. She quickly darned up the gaping wound in a matter of seconds so the assassin's fingers could wind its way through the hair for a more secure grip.

"A promise is a promise, dear boy." Hisoka eagerly tore into the metal and wires. His body began to radiate with energy as he reclaimed his source of power and the outline of his human hands became a fading blur. Even after rubbing her eyes, Machi swore that the Grim Reaper's disguise was being ditched, piece by piece, and soon, they would be afforded a glimpse of his true form.

She wasn't sure if she was looking forward to that. While masquerading as the deranged clown, there was still some semblance of restraint and control about him, as if adopting the visage of Hisoka meant that he had also inherited the personality, and sanity, of a human being. However, witnessing the sheer savagery in which the Reaper attacked the machine, the look of a man possessed, the Guardian of the Dimension may be an awful creature indeed.

On the ground around her, lines of hot, white light rapidly flared up in a succession of rings, immediately bringing one thing to mind. Before she could leap out of the portal to save herself, she screamed at the top of her lungs in pain as her eyes felt like they were about to burst from their sockets and her consciousness was being ripped apart to accommodate the gateway.

Her one last thought was to strangle that Grim Reaper until he was but another carcass hanging off a beam in a derelict barn. Fat beads of blood trickled from her eyes, and she wondered which candle flame to perish next would belong to her.

**O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O**

Shal tapped an impatient foot on the floor despite the tightly drawn line of his Dancho's lips or the disgruntled look Hisoka pinned on him as his tower of cards collapsed from the vibrations of the ground.

"This is warehouse 14, isn't it?" he asked aloud for the umpteenth time, setting everyone's teeth on edge.

"Phone-boy, if you don't stop pacing around, I'll relieve you of your legs."

Shalnark didn't take too kindly to the blatant threat, and his hands slid from his hips to form fists by his side. "Come to think of it, this was _your_ stupid idea. I can't believe I even thought it was remotely _ok_ for Machi to be working with anyone who was recommended by you."

"It's Illumi Zoldick," Hisoka growled, carelessly flinging several cards at the boy's feet with no intention of hitting its mark. "He's reliable."

Shal was fingering the spare antennae that he always hid up his sleeve, in cases of emergency, or in this instance, when he felt like fighting dirty. He just needed Hisoka to be caught off guard for a fraction of a second to plant the antenna spike into the magician, and he could have the clown doing '_Madonna on the Dancefloor_' in front of a camera to be later uploaded and distributed _all over_ the internet.

"He helped kill Paku!"

"He did it for money!" Hisoka retorted. He gave up on his card tower. "Blame yourselves for not paying him off to stay out of your business."

"That's it, you're going down – "

As Shal prepared to feint a lunge, and Kuroro had his book, ready to teleport Shal to the farthest corner of the room to avert a fight, the warehouse erupted with a blinding light. Everybody raised their arms and flinched, cringing as the light was accompanied by the sound of a dozen grenades detonating right at the centre of the warehouse. Both Hisoka and Kuroro released their 'en' to keep tabs on all and any movement within the warehouse until their eyes were cleared of blurry vision.

They detected two new presences in front of them, huddled quite up close and immobile. Kuroro frowned and flipped through his book for that one ability to dissipate the fog that had consequently developed around him.

"_That…bastard!"_ an extremely familiar voice croaked. Kuroro recognized it as Machi, and the frown on his face darkened. She sounded like she was injured and in great pain.

"Infernal smoke. I can't see a damn thing!" Shal complained. "Bugger it. Brace yourselves!"

The young Hunter struck the far wall as hard as he could with his kou reinforced fist. His aim to create the biggest explosion he could concoct and allow the wind to break up the smoke.

His plan worked like clockwork, and he articulated a cry of distress to see a long black-haired figure crouched on the ground protectively cradling Machi in his arms.

Kuroro tentatively reached out and put his hand on the assassin's shoulder. Illumi's eyes were squeezed shut, reminding the Dancho of a little boy desperately wishing for a nightmare to end. And just as tentatively, Illumi responded to the touch and warily opened his eyes to his new surroundings.

The relief in his expression was visible as he recognized the tin roof and the bare, water-stained concrete walls. It took him a little longer to register that the Dancho of the Genei Ryodan himself, as in the man he betrayed to Hisoka, was down on one knee by his side genuinely concerned about his welfare.

"_I'm…going to kill that freak!"_ Machi moaned.

Looking slightly bashful and apologetic, Illumi returned the petite woman to her leader and quickly checked to see that the evidence of his kill was still in his possession. He tossed up Murilied's decapitated head like a child playing with his football, and then with monumental effort, propelled himself onto weak, trembling legs.

"I…think she'll be ok." Goodness, his head hurt. A lot. He could hardly see straight. "It's not as bad as it looks."

Kuroro gently propped Machi into a sitting position, thumbing away the flakes of dried blood that had begun to crust on her cheeks. "If I had known Dr. Murilied's research was so dangerous, I wouldn't have let Machi do this on her own."

Illumi stumbled two steps. He wanted to get to the door. The door, damnit. "I got paid...very well though. Hisoka, can you please get out of the way?"

There was a very cold, very furious anger on Hisoka's unusually severe expression. If Illumi's headache had been less painful and his rationality more lucid, he would have been afraid. However, the assassin blankly regarded the magician before him and for once, had no fricking idea what was the problem.

"You're trying to steal my girl, aren't you?"

_Saywhat?_

Illumi blinked and tried to laugh and groan simultaneously. "I…don't have time for this. I've just been to hell and back. I bought _your_ girl from hell and back and…and…"

His head was alarmingly light and darkness began to fudge the edges around his vision. He sank down onto his haunches and coaxed his lungs to keep breathing. He winced as sporadic pangs of pain speared either side of his temple and left him trembling all the way to his fingertips.

"Don't play meek." Hisoka gripped the front of his shirt and remorselessly hauled him back up onto his feet despite his weakened, and dare he say 'pitiable', condition. His stomach churned at the abrupt change in altitude. He wanted to hurl, and doing it messily and all over Hisoka didn't seem like such a bad idea. "Machi doesn't let anyone _glomp_ her like that."

This was getting ridiculous. He'd just been to the land where lives were fickle flames atop a wax stick, naught but a twinkle, a needle-point speck in the distance. He'd met an alien creature able to sponge memories from their minds and shape-change at will. Then he'd gone through some mathematically-epileptic gate designed to short-circuit brains. Twice. Even a Zoldick had his limits.

"Fuck you. Honestly. Fuck. You. Machi is half dead, but you're more concerned about your injured male pride. Fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you."

Due to Illumi's weakened state, Hisoka did not suspect the assassin could retract a needle hidden in his right ulna and stab it into that spot on his body which left him a paralyzed statue cut off from accessing his nen. Flabbergasted, he spluttered out Illumi's name repeatedly and demanded to be released.

But the assassin had already left the building, leaving behind one response that echoed and lingered in air of the cavernous warehouse. "Fuck you."

Shal circled the motionless magician, a wicked smile on his lips, and even more wicked ideas spinning around inside his head. Kuroro understood the look and sighed.

"Forget about Hisoka. We've got to get Machi to a healer."

"Aw…" Shal wistfully looked down at the antenna in his hand, but quickly pocketed it away. Orders were orders, and Machi was more important that the traitor's humiliation.

Machi had one last thing to do however. She staggered across the room until she was in front of Hisoka and let the golden fires burn fiercely in her eyes.

She kneed the magician in the groin with all her remaining strength.

Kuroro bit down hard on his bottom lip as Hisoka's eyes nearly popped out, and Machi collapsed back into his arms, a satisfied smile on her weary face.

"_That's….better."_

"We _have_ to ask Machi what the hell happened once she comes to," Shalnark said blithely as he and Kuroro left the warehouse with Machi comfortably nestled in the Dancho's arms.


End file.
